Page 103 of Luck of the Devil
“Narcissists know the right things to say.”
“True enough,” I said, swallowing a wave of self-disgust.
“Do you think he really wants you back?”
I considered it. “Maybe there’s a small part of him that wants me back, but no, I don’t think he really does.”
“So why suggest it?” His tone was casual, but his posture was rigid.
“I have no idea. Obviously, Deveraux’s call triggered it, but why?” I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter right now. I need to focus on my mother’s case.”
He set his mug down then looked me in the eyes. “Are you okay?”
My neck bristled at his question. “Because an asshole from my past called me? I’m fine.”
“He said he loves you.” His face was guarded, his eyes hard.
“He doesn’t love me,” I scoffed. “And I doubt he ever did. He only loves himself.” I picked up a triangle of buttered toast and took a bite. “Our breakfast is getting cold.”
I could see the question on James’s face, the one he didn’t want to ask.
Did I still love Keith?
Because you could realize someone was terrible to and for you and still love them. I knew that too well.
“I didn’t love him either,” I said quietly, my voice breaking. “I’m not sure what I felt, but it wasn’t love.”
James looked like he wanted to say more but wisely picked up his fork and started to eat.
Keith Kemper was the last person I wanted to think about, but I couldn’t ignore the creeping unease.
Why was he calling now, and why did he want me back in Little Rock?
Chapter 27
After we finished breakfast and cleaned up, James helped me print my mother’s will and we discussed how to work out the rest of the day. I didn’t have a car, but it didn’t seem smart for us to be seen together in town.
“You can drop me off at the tavern, then let me know what you find,” he said. “We’re short staffed for the lunch rush today, so Misti’ll appreciate the help.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“You’re askin’ if I think you’re gonna keep things from me?” He met my gaze. “I trust you.”
I half-expected him to look pained, but his expression was sincere. Could I trust this change of sentiment? I hated that I questioned his motives, but if I couldn’t trust my ex-partner--then I’d be stupid not to wonder about an ex-crime boss who’d admitted to using an innocent woman because of her unique skill set.
He must have seen the questions in my eyes, because he looked like he wanted to say something. But after the brutal beatings of the past few two days, my heart was too raw to deal with anything else.
I snatched up my bag. “Let’s go.”
We were silent as he drove to the tavern. I found myself studying the lines of his profile when he wasn’t looking.
His driveway was about a quarter of a mile long, and it twisted multiple times, so it was hidden from the county road. It took us less than ten minutes to get to the tavern, and when I commented on it, he said, “I work a lot of late nights, so I appreciate the short commute.”
“If someone looks up the property records, they wouldn’t see your name, would they?” I asked.
He grinned. “What good are multiple businesses if not to help create a paper trail?”
I wanted to ask what else he owned, but all in good time.
